


We Walk Together

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Plot Fix, malnessa, season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: "Don’t leave me. I can’t bear it. I can not be here and be without you again. You’d promised we would walk together and then you walked away from me."At the end of season two, a Malnessa Drabble to set things right.





	We Walk Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladystardust79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladystardust79/gifts).



> Dedicated to my dearest LadyStardust79 who is a most dedicated reader and fellow fan of all things Dalton with me. Thank you so very much for reading and for all of the amazing and wonderful comment love that makes my day so very special!!!

In silence, they sit. They are side by side on the couch, close enough so their thighs and arms touch one another. She does not trust her voice. She barely trusts her body, but she touches him anyway. She threads her hand through the eye of his elbow, and laces herself to him. When he does not pull away, she lowers her head to his shoulder.

“I suppose I should say I am sorry,” he begins.

“Please don’t,” she says.

“Vanessa, I wasn’t myself. She had enchanted me.” He touches her hand. “I wish I could take it back. I abhor what I did, what contributions my part played in this horror. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Then don’t say anything else. I beg you. I don’t want to hear another word on it.” She sniffles. She wants to be angry. She is not angry. She is shivering with grief and exhaustion, utterly bereft of anger. “Now is not the time.” She squeezes her arm around his. She clings to him, really.

“Very well,” he murmurs. He sighs heavily and kisses the top of her head. His lips rest there for a moment and she wants the world to stop so she won’t have to hear what comes next. “I will return our Sembene to Africa, from whence I never should have stolen him in the first place. His bones should find their rest in his native soil.”

She bites her lips to stifle the sob that rises up in her chest like a winged beast.

She remembers all the times he has told her in the past that _he must go, he must go, he will go, he is going_. And then he is gone.

She hears the voice inside of her that cries out and pleads for him to stay. It is a voice over which she has clasped hand and cloth to prevent it from ever being heard, lest it ever prevent him from feeling his freedom, lest it ever prevent him from seeing her as he has needed.

“Will you be alright?” He asks. Inwardly, she yelps as delicate bits of her are plucked at in excruciating ways.

 _No!_ She wants to cry. _No, no! I will perish without you. I will be terribly alone and I need you to breathe and to see the world as anything other than oppressive and dangerous._

“Of Course,” she says. Agony burns as she swallows it back down into her chest.

“Mr. Chandler will be here. I’ve asked him to stay, to look out for you,” Sir Malcolm offers. In his voice there is a thread of something delicate and breakable.

“You won’t need to worry for me.” The winged creature beats within her breast, claws at her. She plans her route from the room so she can release the tears properly and in private.

“Sembene took impeccable care of us,” he sighs. “He deserved better.” The piteous sound of his voice will destroy her. She must take her leave. She raises her head and kisses his cheek. As she unravels her arm from his, he catches her hand in his. “Vanessa?”

“Yes,” she rasps, but will not look at him. She finds she cannot.

“Look at me, my dear,” he says softly. She does not obey. She continues to stare at the portrait on the wall, the ships either pulling in or pulling out of a harbor by the light of a full moon. She glowers at it until it could burst into flame. She’s never liked that portrait, now less so than ever. Sir Malcolm brings her back from the moonlit harbor with a hand on her back. “Please,” he says simply and she turns her face to find his eyes are green as the sea on a foggy morning. He reaches for her chin and touches her lips with his thumb. “I just wanted to see your face before I go.”

She shudders. “Don’t leave me.”

“What?”

“Don’t leave me. I can’t bear it. I can not be here and be without you again. You’d promised we would walk together and then you walked away from me. I do not think, that is, I can not. . . I can not. . . I can not. . .” Her words dissolve to gibberish and then to tears. He pulls her to him and holds her tight, stroking her hair off of her face. He crushes her against him so she cannot move.

“I’m sorry, Vanessa. I must bring him back. You know this.” He holds her face in his hands. “I must go,” he says in a voice hushed as the sea as it embraces a sandy cove.

“Yes, of course,” she clears her throat and attempts to collect herself. “Forgive me for making a fuss. I’m overtired.”

“No. You are correct. I betrayed my promise to you, to walk by your side. It is I who need to ask forgiveness, and I will do it every day for eternity if needs must.”

“You are already forgiven,” she says and attempts a smile.

“Do not smile for me when your heart is broken,” he grumbles. “Of all the things I do not deserve, your companionship perhaps tops the list.”

“Then I will wish you safe travels, my dear Sir Malcolm.”

“And I will wish you the same, as I insist you come with me.”

“What? To Africa?”

“Yes.” He clasps her hands in his. “You will come?”

“Yes.” She says without a moment of hesitation.

They turn from the portrait and walk from the room, together.


End file.
